


Full Circle

by rdm_ation



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rdm_ation/pseuds/rdm_ation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn marks her life in clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/gifts).
  * Inspired by [that party dress is such a mess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/394335) by [littledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust). 



> Thanks to my betas - they know who they are, at this point telling you who they are would give me away so that can wait!
> 
> I hope this remix is something you were hoping for, or at least you enjoy reading it either way. I adore your writing and was so excited to be assigned to you :)
> 
> The dress Quinn is referring to can be seen here. here

It starts with a dress. Well, no, it doesn’t— in reality it started the first time Quinn put on that Cheerios uniform. Walking into school that day showed her that appearances were all that mattered to those around her. She could work with that. Quinn squared her shoulders and _became_ the uniform. It was her disguise— nothing could touch her while she wore it. That illusion shattered the day there were too many lines on that pregnancy test.

The dress she’s holding at arm’s length is plum colored and strapless; the ruched bodice and mermaid style skirt will hug every frame of her body. Quinn stares at it; she loves it, but she doesn’t know if she’s brave enough. If she ever will be. It’s sexy, and gorgeous — and she still can’t see herself like that.

She’d really like to. Each time she left the Cheerios behind she swore it was for good, swore that she’d carve a new, prettier, more _wholesome_ image for herself. Sundresses, skirts, Mary Janes, cute hats and bright colors. The colors were key. Of course, it worked. It always seemed to, at any rate. Quinn’s pretty sure she was the only one who knew it was still armor. At least until the skank phase hit. She’s embarrassed, even now, about how desperate that must have seemed to everyone who knows her. The truth is, she just wanted everyone to leave her alone. The black clothes, the pink hair (she’s not going to lie to herself, she did like the pink hair), the tattoo — it was all just an attempt to make herself undesirable. It didn’t work, not well enough. She had to actively push Santana, Brittany, and even Rachel away. It’s not that she didn’t want help. Or that she didn’t need it. She didn’t think she _deserved_ it. Not from people who’d given her so many chances only for her to let them down time and time again. And then, once again, she had something to prove. She could be squeaky-clean again — she had to show Shelby that she could be trusted. She had to pretend. It was just another disguise.

Quinn marks her life with clothes. The ones she chooses; the ones she doesn’t. The ones that give her power; the ones that take it away. The ones that keep people at arm’s length — wanted or not. It shouldn’t surprise her, then, that her latest epiphany comes while shopping for a dress for her last prom. It shouldn’t, and yet it does.

_Screw it_ , she thinks. _I’m trying this on_.

With some difficulty she zips the dress up herself, and then steps as far as she can back in the fitting room to look in the mirror. Quinn stands there and makes herself look. Makes herself look at the way the dress outlines her body; her waist, her thighs, her hips. She imagines her hair up — no, down, in loose waves. She puts one hand on her hip, stands a little taller and then catches herself automatically jutting her chin out. She rolls her eyes — there’s no one else here. No one to pose for. It doesn’t matter.

She loves the dress.

It takes her another few minutes to gather herself enough to see what the others think. She’d been talked into going prom dress shopping with half of the Glee club, it seems, and she knows none of them will let her buy a dress they haven’t seen on. Kurt at least would order her back into the fitting rooms, she thinks with a smile.

She _loves_ the dress. What on earth is she so scared of? She opens the door.

Naturally, she can’t actually see any of them.

“Guys?”

Nothing. Really, this store isn’t that big. Slowly, careful of the dress, she makes her way from the stall out to the main floor of the store. She spots Mercedes and calls out, but only quietly. Of all people she really wants Mercedes to approve.

As soon as Mercedes turns around her face splits into a huge grin.

“Damn, girl. Not what I’d have guessed you’d pick but it looks _amazing_. Please tell me that it’s within your budget…”

Quinn nods quickly. “Under it, actually.” She feels just a little lighter. “Can you go get the others, please?”

“Of course.” Mercedes strides off quickly. The smile hasn’t left her face.

Quinn breathes out. Then it hits her. She doesn’t want to go to this prom with anyone — she wants to go alone. She shouldn’t have started dating again; that was a mistake. She’s so tired of doing things because she’s expected to. She’s just never realized how easy it would be to just _stop_.

She laughs to herself as she watches all six of them head towards her. She can do this.

One by one their faces break into grins as they see her. Kurt is the first to notice. He looks her up and down once, eyes wide, before he says, “You have to buy that, no arguments. I won’t let you leave without it.”

Brittany actually jumps up and down a little and claps her hands. Santana, whose hand Brittany had just dropped in her excitement, wolf-whistles. She’s smiling, too, that tiny quirk of her lips that means she’s genuinely happy. Rachel positively beams at her from over a veritable mountain of dresses — each one brighter and more garish than the last. It’s Tina who speaks next.

“You look stunning, Quinn. It’s perfect.”

“I really love it,” Quinn says. She takes a deep breath. “I think I’ll take it.”

With one last genuine smile, she turns to get back to the stall she was in. The chorus of approval is nice, she thinks, but she’d like to think she’d have decided to wear the dress without it. One dress doesn’t define her. None of her clothes do. She’ll make sure they won’t, not anymore.

It’s probably more fitting to say it ends with a dress. 


End file.
